


On a Mission

by aces



Category: Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: M/M, Partnership, Workplace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-19
Updated: 2011-01-19
Packaged: 2017-10-14 21:49:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aces/pseuds/aces
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Illya Kuryakin was stalking his prey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On a Mission

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2005 for an "Illya as agressor" challenge on the muncle LJ community.

Illya Kuryakin was stalking his prey.

He made no pretence, hid nothing. He did not follow at a discreet distance, made no attempt at disguise.

He wanted to be seen, his presence felt. Wanted his prey’s heart to quicken a little, pace to pick up, awareness heightened and tension taut.

Illya Kuryakin smiled to himself. Judging by the way his prey was acting, he was doing an admirable job.

Individuals moved out of his path when they saw him coming. They knew he was on the prowl—of course they did. He made no bones about it, denied nothing. They glanced back over their shoulders as they watched him stride past, but they did not question. They wouldn’t, he knew, and what assumptions they made would be innocent. Or else.

His prey moved quickly but deliberately, shoulders tense and body alert. Oh yes, his prey knew it was being followed, and there was nothing it could do about it.

His prey slipped through the door into its office, door sliding shut behind it.

Illya Kuryakin marched through the same door and locked it behind him.

“If you needed to speak with me about something,” Napoleon Solo said from his desk, without looking up from the files he was reading, “you could have just joined me on the walk here, rather than going through that elaborate game back there.”

“I was enjoying myself,” Illya said as he casually rounded the desk to look over Napoleon’s shoulder. He leant down, chin practically resting on his partner’s shoulder. “So were you,” he added after a carefully-timed moment.

Napoleon turned a page. “It certainly made the walk back to my office a little more interesting than usual.”

Illya breathed on the back of Napoleon’s neck.

“Couldn’t you have been a little _less_ obvious?” Napoleon carried on, and turned another page. Illya grinned behind him. Napoleon wasn’t reading a single word in that file, he knew, which meant he had his partner exactly where he wanted him.

“Sometimes,” Illya said, “subtlety is overrated.” He stood up and folded his arms across his chest.

Napoleon swung his desk chair around to give his partner a _look_. “Mr Kuryakin, need I remind you about rules at work?”

“Yes,” said Illya. “Remind me in intimate detail. Am I not supposed to do this?” He stepped around Napoleon’s chair to sit on his partner’s desk, casually pushing the file folders out of the way. “Am I not supposed to do this?” He hooked a foot in Napoleon’s chair, turning it around so his partner faced him once again. Napoleon’s expression remained carefully blank. “Am I not supposed to do _this_?” He leant forward and brushed his lips across Napoleon’s.

He sat back, hands pressed against the desk to maintain balance. He gave Napoleon his best innocent look. It was a very good one, he knew.

Lots of practice.

Napoleon sighed, and for a moment that was his only reaction. “It appears,” he said at last, without meeting his partner’s eye, “that I shall have to remind you about a great deal, Mr Kuryakin. More than I could possibly go into right now, considering all the _work_ I should be doing.” Illya snorted, and Napoleon glared up at him repressively. “Perhaps you would care to meet with me after work today to discuss this matter and how exactly you should be reprimanded for your indiscretions?”

Illya grinned.

“That would be quite acceptable, Mr Solo,” he said formally and would have slid off his partner’s desk had his partner not smoothly stood up and leaned over him with a hand on either side of him. Trapped.

“Next time,” Napoleon breathed, “I’m following _you_.” He kissed Illya, lightly, and would have stepped back smugly had Illya not grabbed his tie and pulled him down for a much more thorough kiss.

“That’s assuming,” Illya replied, “you can catch me.” With a hand on Napoleon’s chest, he gave his partner a tiny push, enough that he could slip out from under the other man.

He paused before opening the door to glance back at his partner. “See you this evening, Mr Solo,” he said in amusement, and slipped out of the office.

Nobody he encountered in the hallway asked why he was smirking.


End file.
